


Night Swimming

by Jinxin



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinxin/pseuds/Jinxin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takumi lashes out, and Corrin forgives him, time and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Swimming

Takumi liked to think he was happier now. The war with Nohr had ended six years ago and the two rival countries were now on relatively good terms with each other. Leo was a good king—though he’d never admit it to the pompous blonde’s arrogant face—and he’d always known that Ryoma would make an excellent emperor. The world was a better place.

It was in the midst of all the celebration when the first peace treaty was signed between Nohr and Hoshido, that Takumi had even proposed to Corrin. How he’d drummed up the courage, he couldn’t be sure, but the words had spilled out and, in spite of all the reasons he’d conceived for her rejection, she’d said ‘yes.’ 

The engagement was sudden for everyone; they had never dated properly, flirtatious spars and weekly dinner nights aside, and it really was too rash of him. But in the years following the war, they’d grown incredibly close. With their other siblings occupied, they’d had copious time to themselves. Ryoma was busy learning to rule a country while Hinoka grappled with running an army—there were still many who did not believe it a woman’s place—even Sakura had reapplied herself to her craft, traveling to Makras in order to further her study of medicine. All in all, Takumi was lonely, and as chance would have it, so was Corrin. 

Their friendship did not develop without great effort on both sides. Takumi had grown to trust Corrin in the war, but he did not see her as more than an estranged sister. Meanwhile, Corrin learned to forgive. The prince’s tongue was sharp and quick, but often times foolish—he would apologize, and she would forgive. 

Some days were good—they’d practice archery and Takumi would laugh at her form, grateful that it was not in Corrin’s easy-going nature to take offense. Or Takumi would shadow her en route to the library and they’d spend hours curled up next to each other, just reading and enjoying the other’s company. 

And then there were the bad days. These were more common when their relationship had just started to blossom and seemed to regain frequency around the time Takumi realized he was in love with his sister. Takumi remembered one argument vividly. 

He was behaving like an ass. Every man that spoke to Corrin put a scowl on his face because he was taken by the irrational fear that this man would be the one to take Corrin away from him. And a devious voice in his head would always whisper in reply that he had no true claim to her. What were bonds of blood compared to bonds of love? Paradoxically weak and strong—weak enough for him to be replaced by a beloved, strong enough to keep him silent about his feelings. 

Chains of blood, more like. He was ashamed of himself for falling in love with his sibling and was in a monstrous mood for weeks on end as he wrestled with his jealousy, desire, and guilt. 

Finding his late mother’s letter stuffed in the back of his desk drawer one day had been akin to taking a breath of fresh air after being submerged in the ocean’s murky waters for far too long. Corrin was not his blood-related sister. He was not as sick as he thought. Their union might be looked upon strangely but there was nothing inherently wrong with it. Nothing wrong with him. 

From then on, he began testing Corrin, trying to gauge if she also felt something more than platonic love for him. The second prince was not known to enjoy strolls, but he began to accompany Corrin on her evening walks through the palace garden. During one such occasion, he boldly asked for her opinion on marriage. 

It was not entirely out of place—marriage had been on the minds of much of the palace as of late. Kagerou and Saizou were getting married at last after a long and tumultuous series of break-ups and everyone was ecstatic for the couple. Many wondered who would be next join them in married life. 

“C-could you see yourself getting married?” Takumi stuttered, content to pretend the faint blush dusting his cheeks was merely a trick of the light cast by the setting sun.

“Married,” Corrin mused with a small smile that did little to calm Takumi’s nerves, “not recently, no. The war has ended, but there is still much on my mind. It feels a bit like a dream.”

The prince nodded jerkily. “Th-then, there was a time you did think about marriage?”

“I believe there is a time that all little princesses think about marriage. Even Nohr has access to fairytales, you know. I read many stories full of dashing princes that swept princesses off their feet,” Corrin replied. 

She was quiet for a moment, leaning forward to breathe in the scent of a nearby Camellia bush. He’d told her before they had no scent, but she’d disagreed. Perhaps the dragon in her could detect the subtle smell.

“There was one story I was particularly fond of,” she began as she pulled away from the large, white blossoms, “It was about a princess that grew her hair so long it could reach the bottom of the tall tower she’d been imprisoned in. Her evil step-mother would use her hair to scale the tower and provide her with food, but never let her leave. And then of course, a prince came along. He used her hair to climb up, just as the evil step-mother had and fell in love with her at first sight. Together, they left the tower and lived happily ever after… It’s embarrassing to admit, but I suppose I wished the same might happen to me.”

Takumi snorted, “It’s hard to imagine you patiently waiting for a prince to rescue you.”

Corrin laughed lightly. “It is now, isn’t it? But I was only a girl then, and fanciful stories were what I clung to for comfort.”

Takumi felt he’d insulted her and quickly sought to smooth over the slight misstep. “Well, then, when you imagined the prince that would rescue you, what was he like?”

“Takumi, are you asking me what my ‘ideal man’ was?” she teased, echoing the term Orochi had used in a reading not two days ago. The diviner was set on giving everyone love readings now that her best friend was engaged to be wed and had fed Corrin a line about her ideal man being closer than she might think. Takumi’s pulse had quickened and the blood pounding in his ears blotted out the rest of Orochi’s fortune. Corrin laughed off the reading in its entirety. 

“Shut up,” Takumi grumbled, voice a bit too harsh. He regretted his tone at once, watching the glimmer of amusement fade from Corrin’s eyes. 

Takumi was prepared to apologize, but before he could, Corrin spoke, ignoring his rudeness, “If I’m honest—and I’ve never told anyone this before—it wasn’t so much a ‘what’ as it was a ‘who.’”

“What?”

“My prince charming,” she clarified with a grin, “when I was little I was rather attached to Xander. I believe he always had a soft spot for me and as such he treated me very kindly. He had in him many qualities I found worthy of admiration as well, so when I thought of the prince that would rescue me from my tower, I pictured Xander. Gods, I believe I even told Felicia I’d marry him!” 

“Is it common to wed one’s brother in Nohr?” asked Takumi. He was dancing rather close to the heart of the matter. 

“No, no. Those thoughts were just a testament to my foolish imagination. Although I suppose it wouldn’t have been so taboo after all,” she said thoughtfully. 

Takumi did not like the glazed look in her eyes and spoke rashly. “Brother or no, a murderer hardly makes for a good husband,” he sneered. 

Corrin looked at him sharply. “We all have blood on our hands, Takumi. Such is the nature of war.”

“Blood shed in protection of one’s home is not the same as blood shed to sate a lust for power,” he replied pointedly. 

“It is not proper to speak ill of the dead, much less to tell unflattering lies about them—I would have thought you had more tact than that,” she snapped. 

Takumi was able to hold back his biting retort, but the damage had been done. Corrin would not speak to him for a week after that argument and Takumi was miserable. Eventually, he’d made his apologies and Corrin had the maturity to forgive him, but he’d never had the strength to admit that he was jealous of Xander. 

Really, he was a weak man. Even when he proposed, he’d been weak, shoving Queen Mikoto’s letter into her face to free himself from the familial ties that bound them without a thought to Corrin’s feelings. She’d been too distraught to answer him that day and Takumi had seriously considered joining his little sister in Macras—anything to get away. 

It was a hard blow for Corrin to take, finding out that the family she’d chosen, the family she thought she belonged to most, was not her family at all—not more so than her Nohrian siblings. 

Secretly, Takumi thought that Corrin had accepted his proposal due to a moment of weakness on her part. Though she now knew that blood was not as important as sentiment, Takumi felt she’d wanted a family to call her own unambiguously at that time. A marriage would give her a husband, and nothing short of death could take that family from her. 

Takumi’s suspicions were somewhat confirmed when Corrin was insistent upon a short engagement and in the end, they married before Saizou and Kagerou. It made Takumi sick to think that he’d gone along with her then and taken advantage of her fragile emotions. 

He hoped she never regretted their marriage, but never dared to ask. However, sometimes after they made love, he’d find himself with tears in his eyes and apologies falling from his lips. 

Corrin seemed to understand. She’d lean forward until her forehead touched his and tell him he was forgiven before kissing the budding tears away with a tenderness Takumi was certain he did not deserve. 

Five years had passed since they’d married and he still felt he couldn’t apologize enough. 

But he made her happy—he did everything he could to put a smile on her face. That same devious voice would whisper that another man could have made her happier, but he hated himself when he fell prey to such poisonous thoughts. 

It was when Corrin was pregnant with their first child that the nightmares started. 

They’d never really stopped—the image of Queen Mikoto covered in blood would never leave him—but without reason, a new nightmare began haunting the prince. And unlike all the others, he couldn’t tell his wife about it. 

This was the nightmare in which he killed his wife. 

Like most of his nightmares, the events were muddled by the time he awoke, usually in a cold sweat. Even if he’d wanted to explain what happened, he couldn’t because all he was left with were snippets of scenes and half-formed emotions. He remembered betrayal—the taste bitter in his mouth—and he remembered pain—a breath-weakening headache that made him swoon. Most of all, he remembered his wife, arms out in front of him, saying something—no, pleading something. 

He couldn’t remember nocking his arrow or drawing back the bowstring, but he remembered the scream. A wheezing scream, neither loud nor long. He felt he could hear the air leaving her lungs—the last life leaving her body. 

The nightmare tortured him. He couldn’t bear to be held by his wife and soothed back to sleep after it. Instead, he’d taken to night swimming. He’d leave their bed, careful not to wake his sleeping wife and swim in the castle’s lake until he was too tired to think. 

He’d never found swimming particularly enjoyable, but he liked being in the water. He felt at peace, bobbing up and down among the gentle waves. 

Corrin never seemed to understand. No, she even seemed to hate his lake visits. Some nights, try as he might to be silent, he’d wake her as well and she would follow after him, pulling him away from the shore and quietly asking him to come back to bed. 

Sometimes he would, and he’d lay stiff in his bed, not wanting to touch his wife when he could still hear her dying scream ringing in his ears. And sometimes he wouldn’t, and she’d sit at the water’s edge, watching him with fearfully large eyes. 

She asked about his nightmare, and he didn’t tell her. How could he tell his wife he dreamt of killing her each night? He couldn’t. He knew she’d forgive him, as she always did, and try to comfort him, but he didn’t want forgiveness. 

He loved Corrin, more than he ever thought possible. He was sick of burdening her and sick of apologizing and sick of forgiveness. He wanted it all to stop. 

Corrin was hurt by the distance he put between them, he knew. She’d even asked if he wanted a divorce one morning when he returned with wet hair after leaving in the middle of the night. 

“No! Why would you think I want a divorce?” he asked angrily. 

“Because I don’t know what’s wrong with you!” she yelled back, “You never sleep with me anymore—it seems you can’t stand to be with me and you won’t talk to me! I don’t know what to do!”

“…do you want a divorce?” he asked.

“No—I don’t know. I’m going for a walk,” she pulled on her robe and pushed past him to slip on her shoes. She paused before stepping outside. “You should sleep,” she said softly, sliding the door shut behind her. 

Takumi didn’t stop her. He was too tired to chase after her and continue their fight. He wouldn’t tell the truth and he was too tired to lie. Instead he sat down on the edge of their bed and cried. Big ugly sobs, full of self-pity and self-hate. 

Hours later, Corrin would return with red-rimmed eyes that mirrored his own and when he apologized for upsetting her, clutching at her skirts like a child as he pressed his ear to her stomach, she forgave him. 

In a few months, she’d give birth to their first child, Kiragi, a beautiful baby boy with cream-colored hair like his mother. Having a child to look after provided Takumi with a valid reason to be awake in the middle of the night.

He was still plagued by nightmares. 

Some nights he’d return to the lake, leaving both his child and his wife asleep. He threw pebbles to break the water’s glassy surface and watched the delicate ripples fan out. 

There was a second reason Takumi liked the lake. He wasn’t brave like his siblings. If Ryoma died, he remembered his brother saying once, he wanted a samurai’s death. 

Takumi was no samurai, though, and such a death was too brutal for him. But slowly sinking beneath the surface, like the pebbles that fell to the bottom—that was a way he could die. 

He didn’t want to die, never wanted to try, but when he hated himself for seeing his wife’s corpse each night and knowing he’d been the one to kill her, he liked to know he could. 

He could die, and it would all just end. No more lying, or sleeping, or making Corrin cry. Just…nothing.

But Takumi yet lived. He returned to his chambers, to his wife and his son, and smiled with Corrin’s scream in his ears.

He liked to think he was happier.


End file.
